


Sweet Like Sugar

by Willow_bird



Series: Dragons are Disasters [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Crack?, Disaster Demi Neil Josten, Dragon!Neil, I'm not sure how to tag this, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, POV Neil Josten, it definitely started out that way, then feelings got involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29448975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_bird/pseuds/Willow_bird
Summary: Andrew had a bad day and Neil isn't sure how to fix it, but he does know that Andrew likes cake.---Neil bakes Andrew a cake and forgets about all the feelings involved until they get too big for him to ignore.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: Dragons are Disasters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163120
Comments: 40
Kudos: 186
Collections: ANDREIL





	Sweet Like Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I just... Look I know I _should_ be working on my RBB or the next lthms chapter. I know I should. But I was feeling kind of eh about today and wanted to write something sweet and light and fluffy for my friends. Because look.
> 
> I don't think you all realize how much I fucking love you. 
> 
> I'm not gonna tag everyone this is for, but please know that if I've ever DMed you - you are on this list. If I've ever sent you a gif involving hugs - you are on this list. If I've ever shared long rambling headcanons (that I swear one or both of us better fucking write one day) - you are on this list. 
> 
> I love you. I LOVE YOU. 
> 
> I hope you like this fic. <3
> 
> (but also like, please be gentle because I was so excited about finishing it in one day that I didn't do a read-through because I'm really impulsive okay? I'm sure I'll catch needed edits and be appropriately mortified by their existence in a few days when I finally do come back and read it through.)

Neil didn’t know how to bake. He really barely knew how to _cook_ , unless following the directions on microwavable freezer meals counted. Baking, though? That shit was some kind of alchemy and he was pretty sure alchemists and dragons had been mortal enemies in the ancient past. That was a thing, right? 

So he really should not be trying to bake. 

Judging by the state of his already pretty shabby kitchen - he _really_ should not be trying to bake. There was flour on everything. Chocolate was _everywhere_. Sprinkles had made their way inside the cabinets. Several different attempts at frosting had painted their way across the countertop and against the wall. Neil had spilled an entire bottle of vanilla extract on himself - and then, when the smell wouldn’t come out with handwashing - had dumped an entire bottle of orange extract on himself on purpose in an attempt to mask it because at least he _liked_ oranges. 

It was just…

It was a mess. 

But here’s the thing… Andrew had a bad day. Andrew had a bad day and Neil didn’t know how to fix it - and normally, when Neil didn’t know how to fix something, even if he wanted to, he just ignored it and moved on with his life. There were always other things to worry about - more _important_ things to worry about. 

But there was nothing in the world more important than Andrew.

And yeah, sure, maybe _one bad day_ wasn’t that big of a deal but…

Well, Neil had made his decision. And maybe, _maybe_ it had something to do with this compulsive need to make sure that his treasure was secure and happy and safe. Maybe. He honestly wasn’t sure - because he’d known other dragons, and none of _them_ had cared about keeping their hoards happy, even when those hoards _were_ people. 

So… maybe it wasn’t a dragon thing. 

Honestly, it was all too confusing to think about most of the time so Neil tried his best not to. 

The important thing here was that Andrew had had a bad day, and Neil was determined to make it better. Or at least, in the event that he failed epicly, he was determined to _try_.

Which was why instead of heading home when he and Andrew split ways after closing the bookstore for the day (Andrew going to his weekly sparring session with Renee), Neil had walked to the small grocery store and bought a little bit of everything from the baking aisle. He’d actually gone in with the intention of buying him a cake - but the only ones left were coconut creme cakes and he had heard Andrew’s spiel about how Coconut Was Not A Dessert not once but _three times_.

(He hadn’t stopped him repeating himself because when Andrew got impassioned about something Neil got a little stupid so he just sorta… absorbed it. No one would ever have to know.)

((Arguably, Neil got a little stupid when it came to Andrew in general because instead of going to another store or finding something else to try and cheer up his treasure, Neil had instead raided the baking aisle despite never having baked so much as a cookie before.))

There was no way that Neil could give Andrew a coconut cake in an attempt to make him feel better. It wasn’t going to work. It would probably only serve to further _ruin_ his day. So Neil made his decision, and here he was - living with it. 

“Well,” he mused to himself, studying the product of best efforts, “it _sorta_ looks like a cake.”

It looked like a cake in the same way an opossum _sorta_ looked like a cat. The basic shape was there, but the execution was violently wrong and it looked like it had been dragged hissing and spitting out of a nearby dumpster - but yeah, sure, it did sorta look like a cake. 

He supposed that as long as it tasted alright it probably didn’t much matter what it looked like, anyway. Andrew liked sweet things, and you didn’t taste with your eyes. Neil had tried to sample the frosting to see if it was any good, but by the time he got finished with it, it was so sweet that he honestly couldn’t tell. Also, he was pretty sure he’d spilled some of the orange extract in it and he knew the recipe definitely didn’t call for that but whatever - oranges still counted as being sweet, right? 

A humming, buzzing warmth touched the edges of his senses and Neil instantly swivelled to face the direction of the back of the building. 

_Andrew_.

The radius of his dragon sense was still fairly conservative. He wasn’t sure whether this was because he wasn’t all that powerful of a dragon to begin with, or because Andrew was still newly a part of his hoard. 

(Well, his whole hoard consisted _only_ of Andrew at this point, but still.)

Either way, Neil was both frustrated and relieved by the restriction. He knew when Andrew was closeby - could feel him when they were in the same building or the same general area - but he wasn’t able to… to _track_ him, or monitor him or anything. Now, there was a part of Neil that _deeply_ resented this limitation. It was a feral, primal part of him that he had to hold back whenever he saw Andrew after being away from him because he always wanted to touch him, to inspect him, to make sure that his prize, his treasure, his hoard, was still in the same condition he left it in. He wanted to obsess over every detail, drink him in with his hands and his eyes and every single one of his senses. 

But he _refused_ to step over Andrew’s boundaries to satisfy the beast inside of him, so there was also a part of him that was incredibly relieved he couldn’t track Andrew throughout his whole day. There was no temptation to follow his senses to find him and hover over him - because it just… wasn’t possible at this stage, and hopefully it never would be because… well, Neil wasn’t sure how effective he’d be at resisting it. 

Even now, feeling the pulse of warmth along his senses as Andrew entered his radius, it took physical effort for Neil not to move toward him. He forced himself to stand still and stare down at that hideous impression of a cake as he waited, listening for the creak on the stairs and the sound of Andrew’s door across the hall. Only once he made out the sound of the other apartment being shut again, it’s double deadbolts slotting noisily into place, did Neil allow himself to uncoil. He counted slowly to ten and back down again, first in German, then French, then finally English. 

He told himself he would wait another twenty minutes so that he wouldn’t bombard Andrew with his presence right after he got home, but he lasted only seven and a half before he lifted his makeshift platter with the cake on top and made for the hall.

Two seconds later he was kicking at the base of Andrew’s door because he didn’t trust himself not to drop the cake if he tried to hold it with only one hand. It took only a minute or so, and then the locks snapped away and the door opened and there he was. 

Andrew. 

They stood there for a full minute in complete silence as Andrew looked from Neil to the cake and back again several times. His expression was perfectly blank, but Neil knew Andrew well enough by now to know that he was surprised. There was the slightest tilt in the set of his shoulders, and the way he held his head. It was in the way the hand not currently on the doorknob was hovering near the door frame without actually touching it - like he’d gotten distracted halfway through going to lean against it and just never finished the motion. 

The problem, though, was that Neil couldn’t tell if this was _good_ surprise or _bad_ surprise. Usually, for both of them, surprises were bad things. They just… _were_. 

Neil cleared his throat. “I… uh… made you a cake.”

“Is that what that is?”

Neil shrugged. He knew it looked questionable. If he was really that embarrassed about it he could have tossed it in the trash. 

Andrew studied him for a moment, then sighed and stepped backward, letting Neil into the apartment. 

It still blew Neil’s mind, how he could step into Andrew’s apartment and it was like walking through a witch’s wards. The feeling of _safety_ somehow permeated the very walls. Everything was familiar and comfortable and… Neil wondered if this was what a ‘home’ was like. Sure, he lived in his apartment, but it was just another place to sleep. He’d probably known hundreds of those over the years and none of them gave him the feeling he got when he stepped into Andrew’s apartment, when he was around _Andrew_. 

(Though he was pretty sure all the strange and special feelings he got when he was around Andrew had to do with the other man being his hoard.)

This place, though? This was where he and Andrew played video games and watched movies. Where Andrew cooked food. Where Neil always seemed to be able to sleep even when a nightmare had chased him out of his own bed to begin with. 

The snap of the deadbolts drew Neil out of his thoughts and he turned to face Andrew again, still just in the little entryway. He lifted the cake in offering. 

Andrew stared at him, then at the cake. Then he _frowned_ at the cake and leaned forward. 

“Neil… did you… did you tape a bunch of paper plates together to carry the cake on?”

Neil sniffed, offended. “No, I _stapled_ them. The tape I had wouldn’t hold and just one plate wasn’t big enough.”

Andrew closed his eyes. There was an odd tension around his mouth as he pressed his lips together and took a slow breath in through his nose. Then he opened his eyes again and took the cake from Neil, brushing past him to head into the kitchen. Curious, Neil followed. He watched as Andrew expertly slid the cake off the paper plate platter and onto what appeared to be an actual cake stand with a large knife that he then used to cut into the cake. Neil leaned hovered a little bit closer, and couldn’t fight the proud grin at the gentle tinkling sound of M&M’s hitting the glass as they spilled out of the cake when Andrew pulled the piece away. 

“You… filled it with candy.” 

It wasn’t really a question, but Neil answered anyway. “You like candy,” he said with a shrug. It was pretty simple, really. Maybe Neil didn’t know what he was doing but he _did_ know what Andrew liked. Andrew liked sweets, so Neil had made him a cake. Andrew liked chocolate, so he’d made the cake _chocolate_ cake - but since Andrew liked a balance between chocolate and other flavors he’d made the frosting vanilla (okay… _orange_ -vanilla). Andrew liked candy, so he’d scooped out the center of the cake with a spoon and filled it with two giant bags of M&Ms before covering the top with more frosting. He’d used four different colors of sugar sprinkles instead of the regular waxy rainbow sprinkles because those were ‘sacrilege to all dessert’ unless they were on ice cream - in which case, they were acceptable, but _only_ with ice cream. 

Andrew was still staring at the cake. The piece he’d cut for himself lay abandoned on a small plate on the counter. Neil waited. Andrew would either share his thoughts, or he wouldn’t. 

Finally, without looking away from the cake, Andrew asked, “Why?”

Neil rubbed the back of his neck and tried to think of a way to explain it that wouldn’t make him sound out of his fucking mind. 

“You had a bad day,” he finally said after a long pause. Andrew finally looked over at him and even though he didn’t speak, didn’t move other than to turn his head and drag that spun gold gaze his way, Neil could read the demand for further explanation in it’s depth. He shrugged before continuing. “You did. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to. I’m not… I don’t really comfort people. That’s not my thing. But you like cake, so…” Another shrug. 

Andrew studied him, then took a step closer. A second later, Neil’s chin was caught between his fingers and thumb and Andrew was looking directly into his eyes. Far from being alarmed or unsettled by this, Neil had to stop himself from trying to nuzzle into his hand and purr like some kind of touch-starved dragon-cat. There was no threat in the way Andrew touched him. There was _never_ a threat in the way Andrew touched him. 

“Did.. did they go dragon again?” Neil heard himself ask softly, watching Andrew as he searched his eyes like he was looking for some hidden truth Neil didn’t even know he’d buried. 

“No.” The word was softly spoken but held an intensity that Neil didn’t really understand. Then Andrew gave a sigh that was _distinctly_ exasperated as he dropped his hand and turned back toward the cake. “Nothing about this has anything to do with your dragon.”

“What do you mean?” Neil asked with a frown before he could stop himself. 

Andrew waved a fork at him that had materialized in his hand out of nowhere. “You’re clearly too stupid to get it. I doubt I could explain it to you.”

Now _that_ was a challenge and Neil did not like to back down from challenges. “Try me,” he declared with a soft huff. 

Andrew raised a brow at him, then hummed in consideration as he picked up his plate and leaned back against the counter. Neil watched with interest as Andrew took a bite of the cake. The other man’s impassive expression didn’t give away anything about whether or not the cake was any good, but when he went back in for a second bite Neil grinned in triumph. 

“You like it.”

“It’s passable,” Andrew _agreed_ \- then took _another_ bite. Neil felt bright and buoyant in a way that felt not unlike someone had filled him with fizzy soda and then immediately given him a good shake. It was… bubbly. Like his lungs had suddenly developed the ability to be ticklish. A part of him wanted to smile and the rest of him wanted to squirm with the weird invasiveness of the sensation. 

Andrew finished off the piece of cake, then licked his fork clean before turning back to Neil, not having looked at him at all as he was eating it. He paused at whatever he saw, then sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face in a way that he only did when he was really tired - usually when he and Andrew were laying together on the couch watching movies. “You are a menace,” he complained, and for some reason that only made Neil’s smile (because he was _definitely_ smiling now) grow. 

“You like the cake,” Neil said again, unsure why he was so hyper focused on that, but unable to break away from it. 

“I said it was passable. Do not get too excited.”

“I’ll make you another one, then.”

Andrew froze, his hand dropped, and his expression was suddenly serious. “What?”

Neil took a step forward. “I’ll make you another cake. It’ll be better. I’ll get better at making cakes.” The mindless babble coming out of his mouth made absolutely no sense, not even to him, but it was just… it was really important that Andrew knew that if that’s what it took for Andrew to feel better on a bad day, Neil would do it. He would make him a cake. Every single time. 

“Neil, why would you make me cakes?” Andrew asked slowly, and there was a weight to his words that made Neil think he was trying to say something else with them. Like he was trying to get _Neil_ to realize something. 

“Because you like them.” 

“ _God_ you are stupid,” Andrew breathed, but there was a tug at the corner of his mouth that was… it was almost like a smile.

“So?” Why was he still smiling? He and Andrew had gotten closer somehow. They were standing close enough now that they were almost touching - which, honestly that might be why Neil was smiling now that he thought about it. Being close to Andrew always made him feel things he wasn’t sure how to describe. He felt safe, usually. Sometimes peaceful. It was comfortable, being around him. And then there were times… times like this where every inch closer was another tablespoon of buzzing, fizzy energy under his skin he wasn’t sure how to direct or control. It was _exciting_ , a kick of adrenaline at the base of his spine he usually associated with fear but for some reason, with Andrew, it was… the opposite. 

It was _thrilling_.

Andrew made a sound that might have been a laugh and might have been a scoff. Neil didn’t really care which it was because he was too distracted by the feeling of Andrew’s breath puffing against his lips. 

“Am I going to have to spell it out for you?” Andrew asked, and the tone of his voice had changed. It was lower and there was a quality to it that was… it was almost like a _growl_ and Neil - oh.. Neil _liked_ that. 

He swallowed, finding his mouth suddenly dry. 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

One of Andrew’s hands landed on his hip, so hot that Neil could feel the press of it through his clothes. The other took his chin again and Neil was able to _watch_ as Andrew’s pupils widened slightly, as the touch of pink rose to his cheeks that Neil was beginning to associate to whatever else Andrew felt whenever Neil was being “stupid”. 

“I want to kiss you,” Andrew gritted out, and by now they were so close that he almost _was_. 

“God yes please do that yes,” Neil babbled through the massive holes in his next-to-nonexistent filter. 

“Fucking idiot,” Andrew started to say, but never really finished because then he was kissing Neil, and Neil was kissing back. 

Pop rocks snapped and sizzled in his pulse and it was honestly probably a very good thing that Andrew was holding onto him with both hands because if he hadn’t been that it was very likely that Neil might’ve lost his feet entirely. His breath caught and then released on a quiet moan he only realized was coming from _him_ when Andrew broke away long enough to gasp “Fuck!” before he was diving back in for another kiss. 

Neil’s hands lifted, the urge to reach out, to _touch_ , becoming so overwhelming that the only way he could stop himself was to pull his mouth away from Andrew’s in an attempt to get his bearings. 

Andrew didn’t fight him. In fact, he let him go, and Neil didn’t bother to suppress his own sound of complaint, already stepping forward to follow him before his eyes were even open - though he froze at the sight of Andrew before him because… well, he was struck at little dumb by it.

There he was. Andrew. Eyes slightly wide, his lips parted and wet, warmed to bright pink from their kisses. There was the softest blush of color on his cheeks and down his throat that Neil wanted to run his tongue along. The tips of his ears were a darker shade, almost like he’d been out in the cold too long - but the weather outside had been mild for weeks now and even if it hadn’t been, the inside of the apartment was temperate enough that neither of them needed a coat. And then there were his _eyes_. They weren’t just gold. They were _honey_. They were drops of raw sunlight, caught in the beat of fairy wings. They were liquid topaz, melted under the breath of a god whose name had been lost long ago. 

Neil looked into those eyes and every inch of him went _weak_. He wanted to fall into them, sink deep into their pools and let them take him for their own. 

“Andrew,” he sighed, and didn’t realize he’d been reaching until Andrew caught his hand. 

“Tell me,” Andrew said, and his voice was low and rough - so _affected_ by their touching - and the sound of it made Neil shudder. 

“I want…” What did he want? Fuck. What _didn’t_ he want when it came to Andrew, he realized. He felt greedy, _hungry_ in a way that scared him even through the haze of all that want. 

_No._ He couldn’t. He couldn’t let himself get greedy. He couldn’t let himself want. If he did… What if he hurt Andrew? What if he _hurt him?_

His breath caught - on fear this time instead of desire - and he snapped his hand back, taking a quick step away. 

“I can’t. I can’t. You can’t let me.” Panic was beginning to set in and his knees trembled for reasons that had nothing to do with Andrew’s eyes. Neil hugged his hands to his chest, then shoved them under his arms so that he didn’t reach out. He had to keep his _hands to himself_. He couldn’t touch. He _couldn’t touch what wasn’t his!_

And Andrew… no matter what his stupid dragon said - Andrew was not _his_.

“ _Neil._ ” Andrew’s voice was louder now, with an insistence to the tone that told Neil it wasn’t the first time he’d said his name. Neil forced himself to refocus and saw that Andrew had stayed where he was - a few feet away now - and had his hands raised in the way one usually did when approaching someone having a mental breakdown. 

(Which he was _not_. He was _fine_. He was just fucking _concerned_.)

“Talk to me, Neil,” Andrew said when he saw he finally had his attention. “I can’t let you - what?”

Neil swallowed thickly around the fangs in his throat. “I won’t be like them,” he choked out. “I won’t let you let me be.”

He wouldn’t. He _refused_. He wouldn’t be like them. Like his father or his mother - sinking their claws into people like they were lifeless possessions that only because more _theirs_ with how much blood was shed, with how much power they were able to exert over their hoard. He would not hurt Andrew that way - even if it meant losing him to stop himself. He could run. He _should_ run. Fuck - he should have run the second he realized that Andrew was his hoard. 

Instead, like the fucking idiot Andrew regularly called him out on being, he had _stayed_.

Neil didn’t remember moving toward the door, but suddenly he was facing it. Andrew must have noticed him moving before Neil had registered what he was doing, though because he had moved too, striding around him to put himself as a physical barrier between Neil and a forever where they never saw each other again. He seemed to realize that if Neil left that apartment he wasn’t going to be going across the hall and into his own, or even up onto the roof to get some air.

If Neil left, he was going to run, and he wasn’t coming back. 

“What makes you think I would?” Andrew asked then, his tone a hard challenge. His face was still flushed and his gaze was intent. Those golden eyes glinted at him, steady and even, his jaw tight and his shoulders squared. He was unmoveable. 

Even from within the cage of his own terror and self-loathing, Neil couldn’t help but marvel at how fucking beautiful he was. 

But the words caught him off guard and he hesitated. Instead of answering, he said, “You should tell me to leave.”

“No.”

Neil bared his teeth, and knew he was showing fang. “Why the fuck not? I’m a dragon, Andrew! I’m a dragon and I _want_ you. I want you more than fucking _anything else_. That should terrify the shit out of you, or at least piss you off!”

Andrew took two steps forward, invading his space, and Neil was so fucking stupid and so fucking addicted to this man and the way that he felt and the way that he smelled and the way his eyes held true holy fire in their depths that he did not - _could not_ \- put more space between them when he had the choice to stand still and drink him in instead. 

“You being a dragon has nothing to do with this,” Andrew hissed at him.

“This?” Neil gestured between them. “This is nothing,” he lied, and it tasted like ash on his tongue. 

“Liar.” Andrew’s response was instant, without a single beat or breath of hesitation. 

Neil’s jaw ached with how hard he was clenching it. He didn’t have a response for him. He was stuck, frozen in place between everything he wanted and the bone-deep knowledge that even if he could have it - it would never be deserved. 

For a long, heavy moment they stood there, unmoving - a battle of wills. Then Andrew lifted his hands. He brought them to hover at Neil’s face, not touching - not yet - but close. It was _Neil_ , weak as he was for Andrew’s touch, that finally leaned into them. Because… because how could he not? He had tried to run. He had tried to save Andrew from this - from _him_. But Andrew… Andrew seemed to have more faith in Neil than Neil would ever be able to earn or deserve, and Neil would never be able to run when Andrew was asking him to stay. 

His eyes closed and his shoulders sagged, the tension slowly seeping out of him as Andrew gently brushed his thumbs over his cheeks before tugging him closer. He guided Neil to bow his head against his shoulder and then wrapped his arms loosely around him. 

“We do not have to do anything that you are not comfortable with,” Andrew said quietly against his ear. “If it’s too much, if it causes you too much conflict, then all you have to do is say so.”

But Neil was already shaking his head. He lifted his hands but stopped before touching Andrew - even though they were already pressed close. Andrew seemed to sense the movement anyway and sighed. The dance of his breath down Neil’s neck made him shiver, but he still didn’t touch him like he wanted to - still didn’t wrap his arms around him even though all he wanted to do was hold him close and never, ever let go. 

“Neil, do you know why I am even _entertaining_ the idea of all of this with you? Why I’m bothering at all right now?”

Neil shook his head but otherwise didn’t move, not until Andrew pulled back and gently caught his wrists in both hands, pulling them up between them.

“This. This is why.” Andrew rolled his eyes at whatever expression of confusion must be on his face, giving his wrists two firm shakes. “Do you realize how often you reach out to touch me but stop well before you do?”

Neil shook his head.

“Well I do. You have never, not once, touched me without permission. I bet there are even more times you want to touch that you don’t reach out at all. I understand that a part of it is your dragon. I am also much smarter than you and I know that is not the only factor. If it were just your dragon in control here, I would have knifed you well before now.” 

The look Andrew gave him then was so undeniably _Andrew_ that even now, Neil couldn’t help the small tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Andrew seemed to take this as some kind of encouragement because then he carefully brought Neil’s hands to rest on his shoulders, squeezing his wrists in silent command to keep them there before dropping his own hands to rest on Neil’s hips. He tugged him closer, leaning up so that their foreheads touched. 

“Tell me honestly, Neil. Do you want this?”

Neil closed his eyes and opened his mouth to protest, but Andrew squeezed his hips sharply, making Neil snap his eyes open again and abort the words. 

“No. The truth. _You._ Do you want this, yes or no?”

Neil bit his lip. He swallowed, and then he told Andrew the only true answer he had: “Yes.”

Andrew nodded, the movement small enough that it didn’t disrupt the contact of their foreheads. “See, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

Neil huffed a laugh that contained hardly any humor. “What if I hurt you? What if I cross a line?”

“We will cross that bridge if we come to it,” Andrew said honestly. He didn’t promise that Neil would never do such a thing, didn’t attempt to reassure that whatever happened - this thing between them was worth it and would survive. Somehow, it was more comforting that Andrew really didn’t know but was willing to try anyway. That _he_ wanted this, too. That he wanted it badly enough, and _trusted_ Neil enough that he was willing to try.

If Andrew was able to do that - shouldn’t Neil be willing to at least do the same?

Neil took a deep breath in, then slowly let it out. He was starting to feel more settled in his own skin, the panic receding and being replaced with something lighter. It was almost a full minute of standing there against Andrew, the heat of the other man’s hands on his hips and his breath gently teasing over his mouth, that Neil realized that the strange, swirling feeling filling up his chest - floating him higher out of his despair - was _hope_. 

He didn’t remember closing his eyes, but when he opened them he was vividly reminded of the nonexistent proximity between him and his treasure - between him and _Andrew_.

Their lips were _so close_.

“Can I kiss you?” Neil didn’t realize it was _him_ who had asked the question until Andrew pulled away to study him. 

Then, with something like a pleased smirk on his lips, Andrew leaned in again - his answer murmured against his lips. 

“ _Yes._ ”


End file.
